A Wit to Match My Own
by Mayle
Summary: A mystery man comes knocking on Sherlock Holmes' door. Expecting a dull evening of another arrogant prick, he's surprised by the man's intelligence. (Rated T for slight sexual suggestion)


**This story is for my brother's 22nd birthday. Happy Birthday, brother! I love you very much! (and yes, I know you don't like the new Sherlock, but take it anyway!)**

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"Arthur Dodger," the tall man extended his hand.

Sherlock looked down at the hand and frowned, but took it and shook it curtly.

"Sherlock Holmes," he replied.

"This is my sister," Arthur gestured behind him, "Amelia."

Sherlock nodded to the pale brunette and she smiled sweetly back at him.

"Please, come in," Sherlock stepped aside to admit the pair of siblings.

The two stood off to the side as Sherlock closed the door. He gestured for them to go up the stairs. The man went first and the girl held back. She waited expectantly. Sherlock waved toward the stairs again, wondering if she was dense or shy. She hurried up the stairs at Sherlock's second signal. Sherlock followed calculating all that he had so far deduced. They were American, clear by their accents and complexions. They were half siblings, it seemed. _Raised together. Possibly away from their biological parents. This would explain their closeness. Hmm. The man has business with me. Obviously something he's been looking forward to, I can tell by that nasty smirk on his face. Perhaps some sort of puzzle? He seems to be anxious and excited. Well, it's definitely not a case: he's no distress and neither is his sister. By his well-groomed appearance and fine clothes, this man obviously has an ego to match my own._

The man had a fedora on his head, which was lazily cocked to the right. His suit fit perfectly, probably specially tailored. It was a black suit that seemed purple in a certain light. His tie was plain purple and perfectly straight. His shoes were plain black, but obviously expensive. Yes, it was clear this man dressed in style.

Sherlock climbed the stairs, grudgingly, not wanting to deal with anything boring today. When he got to the top he noticed that John was talking to the two guests happily. He noticed Sherlock and grinned at him.

"He says he wants to play chess," John said.

"I see," Sherlock replied, making his way to his armchair.

"Would you two like some tea?" John asked the siblings.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Watson," Arthur answered.

"Yes, please, sir," Amelia smiled sweetly again.

"Please sit, Mr. Dodger," Sherlock pointed to what was normally John's armchair.

"Thank you," Arthur replied as he sat in the chair, "As Dr. Watson mentioned, I am here to challenge you to a game of chess."

"It will hardly be a challenge, Mr. Dodger," Sherlock scoffed.

Arthur only smirked in return. He lifted his suitcase off the ground and laid it across his knees. He opened the latches with two clicks and lifted the lid. He took out a chess board and laid it on the circular table between them. He then carefully started placing the pieces on the board, one by one. Sherlock tapped his knee impatiently. Arthur looked up and smirked at him again. He finally placed the last piece on the board and closed his suitcase. He placed it on the floor next to the chair and looked to Sherlock.

"I haven't said I'll play," Sherlock frowned at him.

"You will," Arthur replied.

"And why is that?" Sherlock demanded.

"Because you're very curious," Arthur smiled, "You can't _not _play, because you're curious as to why I'm so eager to play this game of chess with you."

Sherlock's frown deepened and he pressed his fingers together under his chin. _Clearly there is more to this man than his black fedora and arrogant smirk. _Sherlock tapped his fingers together, looking at the man intently.

"One game," Sherlock stated.

Arthur smirked in reply. _Damn that smirk is annoying. _Sherlock thought furiously. He reached out his nimble fingers and made his first move. Arthur watched intensely and then made his move. _And so the game begins _thought both Sherlock and Arthur. They were briefly interrupted as John delivered the tea.

"Come on, Amelia," John beckoned her to follow him to the kitchen, "Let's let the children play, shall we?"

Amelia laughed softly and patted her brother's shoulder before following John to the kitchen table. Sherlock could have made a thousand deductions about the girl, but he chose to focus on the game at hand. They made their moves quickly and quietly. It was like a bizarre little dance the way their lithe fingers flew deftly around the board. Each move brought a smirk to one or both of their faces.

Slowly, their pieces began to dwindle. Amelia and John came from the kitchen occasionally to see what progress was made. Thanks to the fifty move rule, the game ended in a draw. Sherlock's frown only deepened at the end of the game and Arthur's smirk seemed a tad deflated. They sat there sizing each other up for a long time, neither feeling that the draw was quite fair. Finally, the silence was broken by John Watson.

"So it's a draw then?" John said brightly.

"It would seem so," Sherlock replied.

"Ah, so is that a night, then?" John checked his watch, "It is 9, you know."

"Absolutely not," Sherlock replied, "We're going to play again."

"Oh, well, then I'll be getting back to the hotel," Amelia said, "I have a feeling that one more game means you'll be here all night."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her, but nodded.

"You go on back," Arthur muttered, "I'll get there later. I believe Mr. Holmes has more of a battle of wits in mind."

Amelia smiled sweetly and thanked John for the tea. She gave a stern look to her brother and nodded to Sherlock. She then left, leaving Sherlock and Arthur to resume their staring contest. Sherlock leaned forward and began placing the pieces back on the board. Arthur tapped the arm of his chair impatiently.

"A woman is found in an abandon building," Sherlock began.

He then detailed the very first case he ever worked on with John. Arthur listened intently as they played the game. He noticed every detail, both in the game and in the case. At the end of the game neither won again.

"That is not a puzzle!" Arthur cried, outraged, "That is a guess. Unless…no, no. that's so painfully obvious and so painfully _Princess Bride_."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't know what _Princess Bride_ is, do you?" Arthur asked, clearly amused, "Don't worry, it's not that important. The point is, the man clearly had no puzzle in mind. It was clearly some rigged guessing game."

Sherlock nodded in agreement, glad that someone understood.

"You know, Mr. Holmes," Arthur started as he set up the board, "You are a very lonely man. Perhaps you should invite someone into your bed more often."

"Mr. Dodger, I'm flattered by your interest," Sherlock rehearsed his line, "But I am married to my work."

Arthur laughed soundly.

"Don't flatter yourself, Sherlock," Arthur laughed, "I was merely suggesting _someone, _not myself. Perhaps your flatmate, Dr. Watson, that you keep making eyes at."

Sherlock frowned at his insinuation, but simply made his move. _Hmm. This man seems to see more than the normal person. It seems he has a wit to match my own._


End file.
